


Miss Me?

by Merkey666



Series: Fourth of Shit [2]
Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, Missing Persons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 05:33:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11373612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merkey666/pseuds/Merkey666
Summary: Pete Wentz has been missing since Warped Tour of 2005 ended. It's been a year. It's not as though he was kidnapped, no one seems particularly concerned, but what happened?





	Miss Me?

**Author's Note:**

> Day two. The end is in sight. I'm so tired.

Mikey sometimes saw him around after the tour ended. Or, he thought he did. It would be anywhere from the corner store to the park, or some club downtown that he was supposed to be promoting or whatever. It never was him, of course, since he went off the map. When Pete first disappeared it was with a note on his arm written on lipstick. It was a one word goodbye that left him mute for a week. Mikey’s response to shock, or in that case, heartbreak, was to stop talking. It got worse as time went on, to the point where he basically stopped functioning. Gerard had to come over and talk him into getting up, despite Gerard never knowing why he wouldn’t get up. If Pete wanted it quiet, he’d respect that. Even thought Pete was cruel and broke it off without a word, Mikey still felt some obligation to keep his mouth shut. Plus, he was sure Gerard wouldn’t be pleased to see him so hung up over Pete, when it had only been a summer, and that kept him from spilling his guts as well. 

It had been an especially hard week for Mikey, since it had officially a year since Warped of 2005. His sadness and depression shifted towards bitterness sometime around January, and now the thought of missing him made him nothing but angry at himself. He was a grown ass man, why couldn’t he wake up and face the facts? Pete Wentz was missing from his life. Had been for a year. He wasn’t the only one missing Pete though, and he didn’t just mean the fan base. Pete Wentz had been formerly missing from society for a year.

And it wasn’t like he’d been abducted and held for ransom, his clubs were still running, promoted, fully functioning. Fall Out Boy was fine, Patrick seemingly unconcerned, which led the media to assume he was on a brief hiatus from his life. Mikey had considered the option that it was his fault, but Pete wasn’t like that. If things ended badly on his behalf, he’d be mad if anything. He wasn’t the kind of person to sleep all his problems away until he nearly died, but Mikey was. Mikey felt healed on the inside, partially, at least. He was better off those days, able to get all the things done that needed to happen, despite there ever being enough hours int he day. His life had taken a U-turn to the point where he was more sleep-deprived than not, and he assumed that was fueling his hallucinations that had, intact, been becoming more and more frequent over the day. That week in particular hadn’t been too spectacular. 

He’d nearly had a panic attack at the store, and as the feeling crept up upon him, he dropped his basket and ran. He got a few blocks and cupped a hand to his mouth, trying his best to catch any fraction of a breath. He had to tell Gerard. He no longer cared what Pete thought, since it wasn’t likely Gerard would go straight to the press. Still, his anxiety entertained the option for as long as it could. What if Gerard knew something? No, he was just being stupid. Gerard didn’t have the slightest clue. About anything, really. 

Mikey dropped all caring for his deserted basket on the floor of the grocery store, and made a b-line for his house. He didn’t the public catching him having a freak out in public. He could curl up into a little ball and watch horror films by himself if he needed to. Maybe he’d call Gerard for a cup of coffee, if he wasn’t too busy writing music. Since he didn’t have much of anything to do now that tour was over and the next album was still in it’s conception phase, he figured why not? He took the long walk back to his house to think. He spent a lot of his time thinking, rather than doing important things, like shopping. Or sleeping. About three blocks from his house, his phone rang. He let it ring, earning him some strange looks from strangers. He was used to it. 

By the time his phone rang for the fifth time, each time the caller not leaving voicemails, he was suspicious. On the sixth time, now only a few blocks from his house, he picked up.

“Who the fuck is this?”

“It’s Gerard! Do you not read caller ID anymore? The fuck? Also, why do you never pick up your phone? Are you too cool for that now?” he shouts. Mikey glared at his phone, heart still racing. His head wasn’t appreciating the loud noises. 

“What do you want?” he grumbled. Gerard was taken aback at how tired his brother sounded. It had been a while, too long if you asked him, since he properly visited Mikey. After Warped ended and he pieced himself back together again, Gerard sort of assumed he was fine form there on. At that moment, he somewhat realized he was wrong. While he was concerned for his brother’s well-being, he had bigger things to bring up with him. 

“Are you at your house? I’m coming over, I’ll be there in about fifteen. Ten, if I continue to speed. D’you think cops will let me out of a ticket if I tell them who I am?” he asked. Mikey choked on a breath and started to laugh.

“Don’t think so. They might ask for a picture, though…” Mikey took a deep breath, trying to control how he sounded over the phone. Gerard was already coming over, so it didn’t exactly matter what sort of act he put on. “And yeah. I’m at the house now,” he said, tucking the phone on his shoulder as he pulled out his key. It wasn’t really a house. He didn’t want a big space to feel alone in, so he’d gotten an apartment in a large complex to make him feel a little less alone. At first, it hadn’t really worked, but those day were better for him. He, unlike all of his other neighbors, didn’t mind waking up every few hours in the night to the newborn across the hall. It reminded him there were people around, and that comforted him into the amount of sleep that he got. 

“Good! You won’t fucking believe what happened. I’ll tell you all about it and sponsor any rides you need once I’m there. Brace yourself,” Gerard warned jokingly. Mikey scoffed and hung up without another word. He gave the door an extra kick as he sulked in, his house plants watching him disappointedly as he entered the house for the third straight week with no groceries. Mikey-along with his plants- was legitimately getting concerned he was becoming a shut-in. With a second good kick, the door slammed behind him, cutting the last string that tied him to the outside world. Gerard called him again, which did succeed in making Mikey smile, despite not encouraging him enough to actually answer the call. He watched the line ring as he made his way to his bedroom for a power nap. He thought he deserved one after his freak out at the store, and whatever Gerard had coming for him only further procured his need for sleep. That, and the baby across the hall. 

The line finally died out by the time he was sat on the side of his bed. He sighed to himself and set on his bedside table, clicking off the only lamp that ever shone in his room. His bedroom, coined the bat cave by Gerard, was his ow solitary confinement. Pitch-black during all hours, except for one small lamp that shone yellow in the corner. Mikey prepared himself to pass out as he laid back on the bed, his head on the only pillow that wasn’t on the floor, and shut his eyes. But he noticed something. He could tell when his room wasn’t perfectly dark, hence the abundance of sleeping masks by his bed, but this was different. The backs of his eyelids were a little orange to him, no the dark that so often lulled him to sleep. Not very bright, no, the average person definitely could’ve slept with even more, but Mikey was vigilant. 

He opened his eyes and sat back up, squinting around at his room, and then- There. In the corner by the window, the blinds were so very slightly raised. Not very much so, but enough for the light to illuminate the room on the most basic level. Mikey could see, now that his eyes had adjusted and he’d pulled on his glasses, and he was completely sure he hadn’t touched those blinds since the day he moved in. Either some mystery draft had accidentally upped them or…

Mikey turned gently, reaching for his phone, eyes scanning the room, all the whilst trying not to panic. The moment his hand reached the smooth case of his phone, his eyes landed on something entirely else. He couldn’t be sure, not with his imperfect eyesight and the bleariness that came with drowsiness, but there appeared to be something, rather tall, standing in his room. It stood just behind the door, so the light couldn’t hit it, not initially. Not unless it came forward, and seeing as the thing realized Mikey had noticed it, it did as such. Mikey tried to blink away whatever sleep he still had in his eyes, as the creature stepped forward. 

He had an idea of what that /thing/ was, so he clicked on his light. The possibility that it could’ve been another hallucination crossed his mind briefly, but no hallucination had even provoked such emotions from him, so he dismissed it almost instantly. Mikey swung his legs off the bed and gently helped himself up, not taking his eyes off the thing as he did so. And then it began to speak, and Mikey cursed every individual moment since Warped Tour began. 

“So, did you miss me?” Pete asked, cocky and wide-eyed as usual. Mikey ran from the room in a heart beat, out into the blearing sunlight of the kitchen, and grabbed a knife. He didn’t have any intentions of hurting Pete, if it even was Pete, but his mind said getting a knife was the right thing to do. Pete followed him swiftly out of the room, jumping back considerably at the sight of the knife. Pete raised his arms where Mikey could see them as the panic wore on. Mikey narrowed his eyes and then just like that, Mikey dropped the knife. It clattered to the floor and seconds later, so did Mikey, missing the blade by inches. He scooted back and scrunched himself up into a little ball against the kitchen counter, arms around knees and all. He buried his face in his knees, not crying, only trying to outlast whatever nightmare he was living. 

It was over, he’d told himself, even when he was still seeing Pete’s face everywhere. It was over, he’d told himself when he lay awake at night, wondering just what had happened at all. It was over, he told himself as he shook on the floor in front of who appeared to be Pete Wentz. Mikey wasn’t sure he believed it. 

But all it took to convince him was one simple word.

“Mikey?” Pete asked quietly. Mikey unclenched. No one else said his name quite like that. Not even the best of imposter who recreate the feeling Mikey got when Pete said his name like that. Caring, and worried about him, a feeling anyone could master, but no one could clone. Mikey peeked his head up, looking into Pete’s deep brown eyes for the first time in a little over a year. It had been so long. But how long was too long?

“You’re real,” Mikey murmured, not particularly one way or the other.

“Yeah,” Pete smiled. 

“No, it’s just… Sometimes I saw you… I /thought/ I saw you.” Mikey would’ve seen the regret billowing in Pete’s pupils if he’d looked up, opposed to staring down at the knife on the floor in agony. Pete didn’t know what to say back to him, not as he began to realize all the horrible things that had become of his life after he’d decided to stop living it for a year. All the press he secretly hated would be back, and for blood that time, his friends and family would have learned to move on without him, creating a layer of mistrust and distance between everyone he knew, and then there was Mikey. He never knew where Mikey fit into his life, and now that he’s forgotten what little he’d known, it was harder than ever. 

“I came back… for you,” he whispered, plopping down on his butt and staring at the floor in equal despair. “I think I ran away to escape my feelings, to try and hide from what I didn’t know about myself, or anyone else for that matter. And now that I’m back in my own shoes, I haven’t learned anything new or profound, and I certainly haven’t fixed any of the problems I’d hoped would eventually subside over time. They all only… got worse. That’s all on me.” 

Mikey was silent for a moment. “S-so… You’re back?” was all he could manage. Pete smiled at his candor, the way he was so nervous about everything. The way Pete was inside.

“I thought long and hard before I made any decisions, but there were really only two things that ever kept me from turning my back completely. The band, for one. Patrick wrote a lot, not that I ever responded. Yeah, I know. Like, actual letter and stuff. Two, I guess, would have to be you. I didn’t want to have to… how do I put this… leave you behind? You were just the one thing I saw when I closed my eyes, and that got too real for me. And when I was hidden away, I could feel you fading from my eyelids and I realized that I didn’t like missing you at all. I like having you here, with me, and I like being around you more than anything in this world. So, to answer your question, yes, I am back. It’s gonna be front page news, Mikey. I can feel it,” he said, adding a splash of color to the generally dismal attitude of the ordeal. Mikey didn’t find it dismal in the slightest. Every word Pete said resonated with him. He felt that nervousness, that fear that consumed him whenever he thought about Pete, only it wasn’t just Pete that brought it on. It was all the time. 

“Mikey…” Pete began, and oh no, Mikey thought. Any sentence that started off like that never went the way he wanted it to. Pete went a little red. “Do you still love me? I mean, I don’t expect you to have some sort of oath or anything because I left and I’m such a fucking dick, but-“

“Yes.”

“Yeah?” 

Mikey smiled at him a little bit, nervously waiting to see if that was the answer Pete was hoping for or not. Mikey sincerely hoped it was, since it was the truth. Pete sighed, smiling like an idiot, and buried his face in his hands. Mikey was thrilled to see that maybe some things could just be reconciled after all, but then he thought back to what Pete had said. He left. Without a proper word or anything. All that pain it had caused him, a botched attempt at rehab, insomnia, anorexia, depression, drinking, drugs, and the love was still supposed to be there? Of course, it was, but that didn’t stop Mikey from taking a step back before he dove back in. Although, from where he stood it appeared he was already up to his neck. 

“You left me,” Mikey whispered aloud. He didn’t even realize he’d made a noise until Pete looked at him in concern. Mikey stood abruptly, taking in the words he’d said. Pete too rose, more nervously than Mikey. “You left me! You left all of us! And then you just waltz back in here like it’s no big deal?” Pete knew he was getting was his deserved, and resigned himself to just let it happen. He still hadn’t visited his mother yet, so what Mikey was saying was probably just a warm up.

“You went off the grid for a fucking year and you ruined me! I didn’t eat, I didn’t sleep, I didn’t even get up for weeks! You can ask Gerard, I didn’t live properly for months! You tore me apart and I’m sure you did lots of thinking in your isolated hut in Tibet, I’m sure your angsty ranting entertained your herd of goats just fine, Pete! For the longest time, I didn’t even know what to wonder about! You left me with abso-fucking-lutely nothing! I relapsed on just about everything, Pete, and you’re going to apologize but nothing you say is ever going to give me that time back! I’m never going to look back and say, “yeah, well, it wasn’t so bad”, because yes it was! I was, and am, apparently, in love with you and you took me for granted because you had a sexuality crisis, or whatever! Newsflash, asshole, everyone has those! I loved you and it ripped me to shreds everyday after it dawned on me that maybe it was my fault you left. No words explaining why you left, even when there’s nothing you’re better with! And I know now, and I’ve known for a long time somehow that it wasn’t my fault, but it still hurt to wonder why you left, and that there was always the possibility that you may never come back to me, that you would never come home! You could have /died/, and I never would have known, would I? You and your arrogant sabbatical broke me down and left me in shambles. You broke me heart, you-“ Mikey paused, panting, and recollecting on his words. 

“I couldn’t even find peace in my own dreams, Pete, because I never had any. I would lay awake and cry and suffer and wait for it to go away. Guess what? It never did. That is what a broken heart feels like,” Mikey hissed. 

“To be fair, I wouldn’t exactly define it as a sexuality crisis,” Pete cracked, not knowing what else to say. Before either of them knew what happened, Mikey slapped Pete hard across the face. Feeling the instant rush of guilt sink in, he reached forward and pressed his lips onto Pete’s. Pete, who was then feeling a total of way too many fucking emotions, kissed back feverishly. Mikey let out a whine of need and grabbed onto Pete as hard as he could, hoping for a split second that what he held would never slip through his fingers again. And then it was over. Mikey pushed himself back, grabbed his jacket off the chair, and speed walked to the door, wiping his mouth off on his sleeve in the process. Pete said nothing, knowing he deserved /way/ more than he got, and watched as Mikey made a b-line for the door. Just as he reached for the knob, the door practically imploded on itself, revealing a screeching Gerard, speeding ticket in hand.

“MIKEY WAY YOU WON’T BELIEVE THIS, BUT PETE WENTZ IT BACK-“ he stopped, looking out at the scene in front of them. He wrapped his arms around his waist self-consciously and looked down. “But I guess you already know that.” Mikey hesitated for a second, looking for the right words to say back. When he found none, he put a hand on Gerard’s shoulder comfortingly, and sighed.

“Yup.”


End file.
